Of Wands and Staves
by Na'hiel
Summary: Gentleman Johnny Marcone is used to doing favors for friends and family. When a distant relation in England asks him to handle the problem of a small six-year-old boy, John chooses to adopt him rather than kill him. As it happens, the child in question is an untrained wizard and needs a tutor. Enter Harry Dresden, stage left. SLASH HD/JM.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor The Dresden Files. I'm just having fun with somebody else's work.

A/N: Please note that I'm pretty sure all of my characters are at least a little bit OOC in this story. I'm genuinely okay with that. Also, this story contains John Marcone/Harry Dresden, which is a slash pairing. I'm pretty okay with that as well. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Of Wands and Staves

Prologue-

As a rule John was not overly fond of London, or the countryside surrounding it. For one thing, it was a filthy, dreary place with little to draw his attention. For another, it wasn't his city. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of an English suburbia, getting ready to find out just what it was that his_ dear_ distant cousin Vernon needed from him this time.

"You don't have to go in if you don't want to," Hendricks said, loyal as always.

And no, John supposed that he didn't have to go into the tiny, immaculate house before him if he so chose. But. But Vernon had loaned him a substantial sum of money when he had first begun his climb to the tops of the ranks in Chicago. And of course John had more than paid him back for the kindness, but Vernon was family. And that meant that he should be happy to do a favor for a family member, no matter what that favor may be. His whole operation ran on favors done for friends and allies, after all.

"Thank you for that, but I really do," he answered, and stepped up to the door. He rapped politely and waited for a response.

He didn't have long to wait.

He heard his cousin's son long before the door opened, thundering down the stairs like a particularly obnoxious herd of elephants. John fought to keep the sneer from his face, and instead smiled politely when the massive boy flung the door open. Dudley should be about six now, if his memory served him correctly.

The boy wrinkled his nose at him. "Dad! Your cousin's here!" he shouted, and then ran back into the house. Honestly, with as big as the child was, John was rather impressed that he could run at all, much less as quickly as he had.

Petunia, Vernon's wife, appeared in the doorway before too long. "Thank you so much for coming, John," she simpered.

John offered her the same polite smile he'd given to their son. "It wasn't a problem, Petunia," he said graciously. "Your husband sounded quite... distraught over the phone when we spoke."

Distraught was the wrong word, and yet, it seemed to be the only word that John could think of. Vernon had seemed agitated, upset, and horrified all at once. John had not a single clue what could have caused his incredibly boring cousin such an upset.

"Yes, well, we've a matter of a delicate nature that we wanted to discuss with you," Petunia said awkwardly, and ushered John and Hendricks into the perfectly normal house.

"John! You've made it! How was your flight?" Vernon asked, coming forward to pump John's hand.

John allowed it, and stifled his distaste. His cousin had a thick, meaty hand that was moist, likely with nerves. Whatever it was that his cousin wanted from him, it was making the man incredibly uncomfortable. "The flight was fine," John answered. "We hit a bit of turbulence, but nothing too terrible."

Vernon led them into the sitting room, then, and John settled onto the overstuffed, incredibly uncomfortable chair. Hendricks stood behind him, an imposing figure. Petunia served them tea, and John was privately amused to realize that Petunia's tea was every bit as bitter as he'd recalled it being.

He'd only just taken a sip when Vernon blurted out, "We've got a problem we need you to take care of for us."

John settled his teacup back in its saucer and set it on the table. "I'm quite experienced in dealing with problems, Vernon," he answered. "Tell me how I can help you. After all, we're family."

"You see, it's just that we've got this pest problem," Vernon began, shifting awkwardly on the couch. "We were hoping that you could... take care of it... for us."

John sighed. He'd assumed it was something of that nature. Why did his English relations all assume that he was in the habit of assassinating people? He was not a hired hitman, and he was getting a little bit tired of people assuming that he was. "Vernon, I don't really-"

"Please! You don't understand! He's a no good, dirty little freak, and we won't have his freakishness around Dudley any longer! He's a monster!" Petunia shrieked suddenly, her shrill voice making John cringe.

"If it's a matter of getting Dudley's school changed," John began.

He was cut off when Vernon shook his head. "The freak lives with us. John, we thought that we could deal with it, that we could somehow work the freakishness out of him, but it just isn't working! Please, you have to take care of it for us."

John was starting to get a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Show me," he commanded, not entirely sure that he wanted to be shown anything at all. He had a feeling that whatever he saw would only serve to make him very angry with his distant cousin.

He wasn't wrong. Petunia and Vernon went over to an unnoticed door under their stairs, and Petunia unlatched the lock. Vernon flung the door open and reached inside, and jerked out a skinny, waif-like child with messy black hair, a dark lightning-bolt shaped scar, and green eyes that were so despairing that they broke John's heart. The boy was dressed in what had to have been Dudley's clothing, which hung off of him.

"He's a monster, John, and we need him taken care of," Vernon said, holding the boy tightly by one arm.

John closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted down from ten. "I don't kill children," he said flatly, "But I'll make you a deal. I won't kill him, but I will take him from you. I'll bring him home with me." He didn't even stop to think about just how exactly he was going to raise a child in his line of work. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to leave the child here to suffer.

"You'll take him?" Vernon repeated, sounding as though he was actually considering the matter. The little boy whimpered and tried to pull away, and Vernon wrenched his arm viciously enough that John could hear the child's bones crack. He had to fight down the urge to get up and jerk the child away from his brute of a cousin.

"I'll take him," John said, and motioned to Hendricks. "Contact Ms. Carson and see who she recommends in England to handle this matter swiftly and discreetly," he commanded. Hendricks left the room, presumably already dialing her number.

After that, it didn't take long. What should have taken weeks, if not longer, to complete took only a matter of hours. It helped that the Dursleys as a family were quite eager to wash their hands of the waif, it helped that the waif himself, apparently named Harry Potter, had no desire to stay with his adopted family, and it certainly helped that John was entirely willing to throw money at the problem until it was swiftly resolved.

****Six hours from entering the Dursley household, Gentleman Johnny Marcone left with a six-year-old boy's fragile hand held within his own, and an entirely new set of responsibilities to manage. But John was not one to walk away from a responsibility, and he was certain that no matter how bad a job he might do raising the child, he certainly wouldn't ever lock the boy in a cupboard under the stairs.


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor The Dresden Files.**

**A/N: I'm not a psychologist. The stuff that the good doctor says in the middle of this chapter? Made it up. Please don't rely on it as good advice if you ever find yourself in John's situation.**

Of Wands and Staves

Chapter One-

Regan answered on the first ring. "You don't normally contact me, John," she said in a voice like a bar at midnight.

"I don't normally do business in your neck of the woods," John said quietly. "But today, I think I might need to."

Harry had been with John for three days, and John had been unable to coax him into talking once. Hell, he could barely get the child to eat. He seemed to think that his food would be taken from him the moment it was offered, and it was breaking John's heart. Especially when he considered that the problem wasn't due to a lack of food, considering both Vernon's and Dudley's girth.

"Need to, huh?" He heard her shifting, taking a drag of a cigarette. "What's the story, then, Johnny? How can old Regan help you?"

"I've taken in a child," John began, "and he's damaged. Badly. I find the thought of allowing those who so badly damaged him to go free absolutely abhorrent, and I really need that taken care of."

Regan's breath left her in a hiss. "And they're in my neck of the woods, you say?" she asked, in a voice like winter.

John knew her history quite well. He knew of the father that had taken all he could from her before throwing her out into the street, pregnant and alone. He knew of the mother who had beaten her in a futile rage because she couldn't beat her husband and she couldn't stop him from attacking her daughter. And he knew of the younger sister who hadn't survived the same treatment. Really, it was dirty pool calling her with this.

"In Surrey. Number Four, Privet Drive, to be specific. Shall I send over the usual fee?" he asked, already logging into his bank account.

Regan chuckled. "As it happens, I'm already in the area on unrelated business," she said. "No, don't send me anything, John. This one? This one I'll handle for free. It'll be fun."

"Thank you," he said, and meant it.

"Oh no, thank you John," she murmured. "Just remember to think of me the next time you have business over here. I'll send you a message when it's handled."

The phone went dead in his ear, and John smiled. Seven hours later, an email popped up in his inbox directing him to a news site that had an article about two members of the Dursley family who were murdered in a home invasion gone horribly wrong. The son, it was said, was going to live with an Aunt who lived out in the country and raised dogs.

Good. Maybe she wouldn't let him continue to gorge himself so as to die of a heart attack at twenty-three.

His personal mission accomplished, John gladly went back to filling out routine paperwork. The day was already looking up now that he didn't have to worry about the Dursleys any longer.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry was an absolutely adorable little boy. In the two weeks that the child had been in his care, John had seen nothing to justify the Dursley's treatment of him. Not that John really believed that anything could justify such treatment, but he'd certainly expected something. But the child seemed completely normal.

Okay, so maybe normal was a bit of a strong word.

It had taken John almost a week to get the little one to talk once they'd left the Dursleys. The dam of silence had broken only when Harry had shattered a glass as he'd gone to pour himself some water, and then there was no stopping the flood of tears and apologies. It had taken John over an hour to get him settled down, and even then he'd still apologized later in the evening. It had been heartbreaking.

It had been terrible, but it was the incident that had occurred only three days later that had truly frightened John. Admittedly, it was entirely John's fault. He'd been... handling a small matter that had involved somebody selling information of John's to somebody else. The handling of the matter had, as tended to happen, gotten a bit bloody. Which would have all been fine, because John was used to matters like that, but Harry had spotted him before he'd had a chance to clean up. What had followed was... well, meltdown seemed like too weak a word to describe Harry's panic.

Harry had hidden under his bed for two whole days.

It was about then that John decided that maybe a therapist might be in order.

ooOOooOOoo

"You must understand, Mr. Marcone, the child is in a very delicate stage right now," Dr. Mallory Pierce murmured as she flipped through her notes. She had ginger hair pulled into a loose bun, and her face was splashed with freckles. She wore no makeup, and her clothing was casual at best. But she was one of the most highly recommended child psychologists in Chicago, and John could care less about her appearance if she could help his new charge.

"Yeah, thanks, I got that," John shot back before he could stop himself. He was exhausted. Harry had screamed all through the night and hadn't allowed John to comfort him at all. He'd tried just after he'd put Harry to bed and Harry had actually spent the rest of the night in his closet as a response. He rubbed at his brow and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Yes you did," Dr. Pierce said, but she sounded amused. "You've taken on a very tough case, Mr. Marcone," she said, grim and unhappy. "I won't break his confidence, of course, but there was a lot of... severe abuse."

"I hadn't guessed," John muttered. "Is there anything specific I should be doing? Anything that I might not think of that you believe would be particularly beneficial?"

"Well, I would start with not letting him see you either angry or bloodied," she said in a voice as dry as the Sahara. "I know that you've already made that mistake once. Don't do it again. And... hmm..." She paused, considered her notes, and said, "I'd recommend homeschooling him for now, maybe with scheduled play dates with children of his own age once he's a bit more stable. He's had some bad experiences with bullying, and I'm concerned that exposing him to other children at this point would only make things worse."

John nodded, and noted the advice in the file he was making for Harry on his phone. "Anything else?"

She shrugged. "You're already providing him with both food and a comfortable and safe place to sleep. He'll come around, I think. I wouldn't recommend pushing him when it comes to spending time with you. Let him move at his own pace. He already thinks you hung the moon, so give him time to let you know that."

John fought the urge to bury his head in his hands. "Anything a little more definite for me?" he asked, not liking the plaintive tone in his own voice.

She laughed quietly. "Mr. Marcone, psychology isn't like a mathematical formula. There aren't set ways to get to an answer, and sometimes we don't even know what the answer is that we're looking for. This will take time. Do I think that Harry is going to be fine? Eventually, with the right care, absolutely. Am I willing to commit to a method of treatment after only spending an hour with him? No. Of course not."

"So what you're saying is that you'd like to see him again," John hazarded.

"That sounds about right, yes," Dr. Pierce confirmed with a sharp nod.

"Next week?" John guessed. "Same time?"

"Try three days from now, same time, if it works with your schedule. I think twice a week is a good idea until we're certain that he's doing well enough."

John made a note of that as well, entering it into his schedule. He had to clear three meetings to make time for it, but it was worth it. Anything would be worth it if it helped the child. The police commissioner could just wait until their normal meeting time next week, or they would reschedule for another day.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Pierce," he said calmly. He leaned over and shook her hand, then left her office.

He found Harry sitting in the waiting room with Nathan, playing with one of the bead mazes. Nathan, occasionally, would be moved to shift one of the beads himself, and John had to fight down a burst of laughter at the sight.

"You ready, Harry?" he asked.

Harry abandoned the toy immediately and stood. "Ready," he affirmed quietly.

John and Harry left the office, then, with Nathan trailing faithfully behind them.

ooOOooOOoo

With public school entirely out of the equation, both for the reasons that Dr. Pierce mentioned as well as the fact that John would never send his ward to school without a personal bodyguard, he was left with only two options.

The first, that of private school, was out of the question at the moment for the simple fact that Harry was terrified of other children. Finding that out had been an adventure in and of itself, and hadn't gone well. John had made arrangements with several of the families in his employ to have a small gathering that Harry would attend. Three families with one child each had been invited. Harry had retreated to the smallest place he could find, which had been under the couch, and hadn't come out until the other children had left. So yeah, private school was out.

Which left homeschooling. That wasn't technically a problem, but John just didn't trust his own level of knowledge enough to be Harry's teacher. Not to mention, he didn't exactly have the time for it. That meant that he needed to concentrate on finding somebody he trusted to handle the matter, and that wasn't exactly going well at the moment. It seemed like everybody recommended to him as a tutor had something in their background that made him rather leery of trusting his ward with them.

There was also the small chance he was being paranoid, but really, that was negligible.

What that meant was, until John could find either a nanny or a tutor he trusted, Harry spent his days with John at his offices. The boy was amazingly quiet, and was easily amused as well. While John had meetings and filled out paperwork, Harry sat at his own smaller desk and colored, or read, or quietly watched television with the headphones in on the laptop John had procured for him. And if, every so often, the little one let out a childish giggle that broke up the silence, John was okay with that.

All in all, while the arrangement was far from ideal it was working quite well. Or rather, John should say, it had been working quite well. Until today.

This shouldn't have happened, and he had no idea how it had. The three men should have been stopped long before they could reach his office, and yet here they were, semi-automatic weapons in hand, threatening both John and Harry. John swore that after this was over he was going to fire his entire security team. Except for Nathan, who at least had the sense to stop the idiots from trying to breach the room while the men had their guns on Harry.

"You must be incredibly stupid if you think that threatening my child is going to do you any good," John said flatly. He was fighting not to show just how panicked he really was. Harry's position was... alarmingly precarious, to say the least.

"You'll do what we say or we'll blow a hole in this pretty little things' head," one of the masked men snarled.

John opened his mouth to respond, hopefully with something that would disarm the situation a bit, then froze.

Harry disappeared with a little pop only to reappear by John's side, where he immediately flung his arms around John's waist and began to wail loudly, inconsolably. At the same time, the semi-automatics the men were holding disappeared like they'd never existed in the first place. Nathan entered the office immediately and the men were smart enough to surrender before they could be executed.

Once they'd been removed from the office for questioning and Harry's sobs had turned into quiet sniffles, John settled the child on top of his desk and knelt to stare into his watery green eyes. "Harry, do you know how he did that?" he asked gently. Magic was something he still didn't understand much of, having only been exposed to its existence a few months ago, but he recognized it when he saw it.

Harry shook his head frantically. "Not a freak!" he cried desperately, lips trembling with tears once more.

"No, you're not," John said patiently. "I think maybe you might have just done some magic, though."

"No!" Harry shouted. "There's no such thing as magic, and I'm not a freak!"

John frowned. Those words sounded suspiciously like words that might have come from his very boring, very mundane, very vanilla cousin. "Harry, is that something that Uncle Vernon taught you?" he asked, trying to be both stern and gentle.

Harry sniffled a bit. "Yes, sir," he whispered, and looked down.

"And what did we say about things that Vernon taught you?" John asked, tilting Harry's chin up until the child had no choice but to look him in the eye.

He got the spark of defiance he was hoping for. "Uncle Vernon was a liar!" Harry shouted triumphantly.

"That's right, Harry," John said, with a relieved smile. Harry was learning that one very quickly, and things that Vernon had said were making less frequent appearances daily. "So, let me tell you now, magic is real. I've seen it done before. And if you think that you can be brave with Mr. Hendricks for a while, I'm going to go and speak with the only wizard I know, who might be able to teach you a little bit about it."

"Okay, Uncle John," Harry said sweetly, all the fight gone from him. He was taken from the room by one of Nathan's men.

John staggered as though he'd been shot in the stomach. Uncle John. Oh, God, was he really? Dr. Pierce had assured him that he was doing everything right with the little one, that he was recovering quite nicely from his ordeal, but he hadn't realized... He hadn't realized just how much Harry was coming to adore him.

Uncle John, huh? He could get used to that, actually.

"I don't like the idea of you going out there when we don't know who sent them," Nathan said quietly, a frown on his face. "I especially don't like the idea of you going out there without a guard on you."

John snorted dismissively. "It'll be fine. Whoever it was will expect me to hide in my offices for a few days while the answers are beaten out of their men. They won't expect me to be on the streets by myself going to visit a wizard."

Nathan let out a displeased sigh, but nodded slowly. "I'll take good care of the kid, boss," he said.

"I know you will," John answered, though it hardly needed to be said. "I'll be back shortly."

* * *

**A/N: This story is actually in a rough completed form on my computer. It has 24 chapters plus the prologue and the epilogue. Each chapter in it's current form is about 1000 words, and as you can see I'm working on bulking that up a bit before I post. I should be able to update about once a week, though I make no promises.**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the story! Let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor The Dresden Files.

Of Wands and Staves

Chapter Two-

Things had been quiet lately.

Which was great, really, because it meant that nothing was rotten in the state of Denmark. So to speak. But it was bad, because Harry was still a human, and still needed to pay his rent, and still really needed food. With things being quiet, Harry was finding most of the above to be a little more difficult than normal. He was down to about half a pack of ramen in his cupboard, and no gas to cook it. And that was, of course, assuming that he even had an apartment when he left his office.

He was just getting ready to see if Murphy needed a hand with something, anything, when the door to his shop opened. And, because the day just couldn't get any better, in walked his least favorite mobster.

"Oh, what a coincidence. I was just getting ready to call the police," Harry snarked, even as he set his phone back onto the cradle.

Marcone's eyebrows raised. "By all means, don't let me stop you from pressing business," he said, even as he settled across from Harry in the chair reserved for clients.

"That was a hint. I meant for you to get out." Harry gestured sharply at the door.

Marcone only smiled at him. "Actually, I find myself in need of your services, Mr. Dresden."

Harry snorted. "I told you no once, didn't I? I meant it. I'm not getting in bed with the mob, metaphorically speaking."

"What about literally speaking?" Marcone asked, then shook his head quickly before Harry had a chance to respond. Which was probably a good thing, because mouthing off to Marcone would probably get him a pair of cement galoshes, and that just wasn't his style. "Kidding, Mr. Dresden. You see, I find myself in need of a consultation with a wizard regarding my new ward."

"I said... No, wait, new ward? What does your new ward have to do with me?" Harry eyed the mobster suspiciously, wondering just what it was that Marcone was up to. Whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be any good. Marcone was a shark: lethal and likely to strike when he saw blood. This was a ploy of some kind; it had to be. But for what purpose, Harry could only imagine.

"I believe he performed some magic today, and I was wondering if you knew of a way that I could either confirm or refute that. And if you can confirm it, I was wondering if you might know of a magical person seeking work that might be trustworthy enough that I could employ him as Harry's tutor." Marcone's smirk, when he said this last bit, was vicious. And shark-like. See earlier comment.

"Are you really asking me to be a magical tutor to somebody who shares my first name? Because that won't be at all confusing," Harry muttered, avoiding answering the question. The request sounded like something he could probably do, maybe even like something he wanted to do, and that was a terrible idea. Harry didn't make deals with sharks.

"Mr. Dresden, you are the only magical person I've been able to find that I would trust enough with the life of the child I'm raising as my own. You already know what I do for a living, and I trust you enough to know that you won't involve a child in any disagreements you have with me." Marcone frowned at him and added, "So if you would dispense with the sarcasm and give me a straight answer, that would be much appreciated.

Harry considered Marcone's words and came to several conclusions, all in the space of a few moments. The first was that Marcone was right: He would have a hell of a time finding a trustworthy wizard who could look the other way when it came to his illegal dealings. Wizards that were willing to look the other way generally weren't the sort you wanted to leave with your kid.

The second conclusion was slightly more relevant. Harry was tired. He was a good person, he was, but he was tired of always wondering where his next meal would come from and whether or not he'd have the money to pay rent. And working with the police was a wonderfully rewarding thing, but Murphy didn't trust him anymore. It was a painful truth, but there it was.

She didn't trust him, and she probably never would again. The fact was that he was hiding things from her, and he would never be able to tell her. They weren't things that should get him arrested of course, but that hadn't stopped her from trying. And maybe he didn't trust her so much anymore, either.

"You know what? I'm hungry enough. Let's do this. I'll go meet the kid. You'll feed me dinner. If he's magical, we'll draw up a contract. It isn't like anything else was coming my way right now anyway. And it won't be like I'll be your own wizard for hire, or anything." Harry narrowed his eyes and added, "I'll just be tutoring." He wanted to be absolutely certain that Marcone didn't take this as permission to use him for anything else.

Marcone's smirk turned into a more genuine smile. "That, Mr. Dresden, sounds like an excellent plan."

Harry followed Marcone from his office, and as he did he couldn't help feeling like he'd just made a deal with the devil. Or a shark. And sharks really didn't seem like the type to make deals, did they? Or to honor their arrangements.

So long as Harry wasn't eaten, he'd be okay. He'd always managed before to land on his feet; he doubted one mobster could change that.

Unless Marcone ate his feet...

ooOOooOOoo

Okay.

So Harry wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd gone into this meeting with quite a few expectations. Perhaps he would find the kid in a mini suit and tie, with an entirely unamused expression on his face. Or maybe he would find a little boy so frightened of Marcone and the people he worked with that Harry would have to involve the police just to try and get the kid to a safe harbor. There was even the possibility that the kid would be entirely normal and Harry was just being paranoid.

What hadn't been an option was that Harry would recognize the child playing nonchalantly on the floor with Cujo.

Huh.

So, okay. Funny thing about practitioners: there's a ton of different kinds. Harry himself belonged to the White Council, and while they followed a very strict set of laws based upon secrecy and other things that wizards weren't meant to do, they at least acknowledged the necessity of interacting with non-magical beings.. This little one belonged to a very isolationist society that didn't much mingle with the Muggles that surrounded them. There were arguments both for and against that type of society, though Harry himself tended to side with the minglers.

This one, sitting on the floor playing with his little toy truck, was arguably the most famous of that insular wand-waving sect. Rumor had it that he'd taken out some burgeoning Dark Lord while he was still just a baby, and that was what had given him the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. If that was the case, and really, how many kids had lightning bolt scars anyway, then how had Marcone gotten ahold of him?

He supposed it didn't really matter at this point, and it was always something he could ask Marcone later. Hells bells, he didn't even really need to do the evaluation, did he? Of course Harry Potter was magical. That wasn't even in question, was it?

But still, just to make sure... Harry entered the office and offered his nicest smile to the boy who had looked up the moment the door opened. Knowing that he was likely a very intimidating figure to such a tiny child, he said in his gentlest voice, "Hi there."

"This is Mr. Dresden," Marcone said after entering the office behind him, "and he might be your tutor. But I'll need you to be honest with him, and talk about what happened earlier today."

Harry Potter set his toy down without taking his eyes from Harry Dresden. "I made the guns go away," he said quietly, "because they were scary. And I don't like being scared."

Harry closed his eyes. That wasn't possible. Magic didn't work like that. At least, no magic that he knew. There was a very good chance that he was in over his head here. Then he opened his eyes and offered the kid a smile. "That's very impressive magic for someone of your advanced years," he said teasingly. "And were you very tired after you did that?"

The little boy shook his head. "I was upset. And I wanted to be with Uncle John. So I wished I was, and then I was!"

Still not technically possible. And yet... Maybe Harry should stop focusing on what he thought was possible and figure out just how powerful this little one was. "And you weren't even a little bit tired after you did all of that? Because that sounds like an awful lot of work to me!" Harry said, and when the kid shook his head, his mind was just a little bit blown. Magic didn't work like that, especially not when the practitioner in question was a six year old. There was a reason that magic didn't typically manifest until a practitioner was at least in their double digits. But then, for all Harry knew, the isolationists overseas did things entirely differently. Even so, the kind of power that should take...

Harry shook his head again, this time more violently. "Not tired," he insisted. "Was easy."

"Okay," Harry answered, giving up on that line of questioning. If the child had been tired as a result, he most likely still would have been sleeping anyway. Magic, at such a young age, was either exhausting or it wasn't. Harry himself had never had any troubles with exhaustion, but then, he'd always been more of a heavy hitter than a delicate spellcrafter.

A new line of questioning occurred to him, and Harry asked the child, "Can you repeat what you did to the guns with something else?" If he was just using his powers accidentally, that would be one thing, but if he could deliberately recreate what he'd done... Harry wasn't even sure he'd be good enough to train a wizard who could do that so young. Yeah, sure, he was a powerhouse and he had Bob to lend him a hand, but a wizard like that would dance circles around him.

The kid stared up at him with confused green eyes that went right through to Harry's heart. "I don't think so," he said finally, and looked down at his truck. And then he seemed to perk up and chirped, "But I can do something else!"

"What can you do?" Harry fought down a smile. Whatever it was, the kid was obviously impressed with himself. This was probably going to be adorable.

The little boy closed his eyes, and frowned in concentration. And then he hissed.

It wasn't adorable, that was for sure. It was a chilling sound that sent shivers down Harry's spine. "Okay, okay, okay, stop," Harry said quickly.

Marcone was obviously with him, and scooped Harry up off the floor swiftly. "Enough," he said quietly, and the little boy stopped immediately to fling his arms around the mobster's neck.

"Sometimes snakes talk back to me," Harry chirped, and looked entirely too pleased with himself.

The older wizard nodded. "Okay then," he said after taking a few minutes to recover himself. "Have you always been able to do that?" Parseltongue. He'd never thought he'd hear it himself; the skill was supposed to be extinct.

"My first friend was a snake in my Aunt's garden," Harry said, and then hid his face in Marcone's neck. "She killed her when she found her."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Marcone said, and to Harry's surprise he actually sounded like he meant it. Huh. Maybe he wasn't such a bastard after all. "Hendricks, why don't you take Harry back to the house? I think he's ready for his nap."

"I don't need a nap! I'm not tired!" Harry protested. "I wanna stay with you and Mr. Dresden!"

Marcone sighed and placed the child in Hendricks' waiting arms. "I know you do, Harry," he said patiently, "but Mr. Dresden and I need to speak now, adults only. Can you let us do that?"

The child frowned, but finally nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, but didn't sound happy about it. Hendricks, thankfully, took him away before that frown could turn into an all out tantrum. Which was great, because Harry hated it when kids cried. It made him feel like scum, and he wasn't fond of that feeling.

ooOOooOOoo

John didn't particularly care for the noise that had come from Harry's mouth when Dresden had asked him if he could do anything else. It had made him feel just a little nauseous, and a lot uncomfortable, and he wasn't sure why. He did know that he didn't want to hear that again, although he was almost certain he would.

Once Harry had left the room, he asked Dresden, "What the hell was that?"

"Parseltongue, I think," Dresden answered, "It's the language of the snakes. It's... a pretty rare gift, and not really... it's not a good thing to have. It's considered a sign of evil by the more suspicious practitioners."

John, inexplicably, felt a little bit of dread at Dresden's statement. "You don't think that, do you?" He didn't know enough about one type of magic or another, not yet, but he knew that a little boy couldn't possibly deserve to be considered evil. If Dresden did think that, he wasn't sure that he could employ the man as Harry's tutor.

Dresden shook his head. "I think it's damn creepy, and it isn't necessarily something I like to hear. I also think that it's just a language, and I don't see how that can be evil."

John relaxed a bit. "That's a relief to hear. I couldn't have hired you if you were secretly thinking that little Harry was just waiting to grow into a soul-sucking monster."

"With you as his primary role model, what else am I supposed to think?" Dresden cracked. "And I never said I would come to work with you. There's a lot to discuss before we can make that decision, starting with how you have Harry Potter as your ward."

John froze. "I wasn't aware that divination was one of your gifts," he said hesitantly, and wondered how Dresden had recognized his ward.

"It isn't. We've got a lot to talk about over this dinner you're buying me," Dresden said, and not for the first time, John wondered what exactly he'd gotten himself into.


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Dresden Files.**

Of Wands and Staves

Chapter Three

John's first impulse had been to call in a favor and get the two of them seats at one of the nicest restaurants in Chicago. The owner owed him quite a lot for taking care of a... problem she'd had, and he had yet to cash in on that.

On second thought, he considered who he was trying to strike a deal with and nixed that idea. Dresden wasn't one who would be easily impressed by fancy meals and fast cars. He'd already proven as much when he'd turned John down the first time. No, if he wanted Dresden to be comfortable enough to come and work for him, then he'd have to try something a little outside of his own realm of expertise. That thought in mind, he instead had his driver take them to McAnally's. Dresden's look of relief mixed with a hint of genuine delight upon their arrival made John confident that he'd made the right decision.

Although McAnally's wasn't the type of place John would ordinarily frequent, it was more than worth it to see Dresden at his ease. Dresden was apparently enough of a regular to know exactly what he wanted to eat, and he clearly enjoyed the food there judging by the way he fell upon it the moment his steak dinner arrived. Either that or, going by the lean, almost gaunt appearance of the man, he hadn't eaten in awhile.

In all honesty, John was hoping for the latter rather than the former. If the former, it was simply a natural state for Dresden. If the latter, it meant that he was more likely to be in a position where he was required to accept John's offer. Not that Dresden had a habit of doing things he was required to do, of course. But if he was having trouble finding honest work, perhaps that would make him more amenable to taking some less than honest work.

If a position tutoring could be considered less than honest, of course.

"Did you want another steak?" John asked, unable to stop himself from the subtle taunt as he sipped at his ale. It was decent, though not generally a beverage he preferred. The steak was, however, excellent. He could see why Dresden appreciated the place.

Dresden's eyes narrowed, likely catching the lightly mocking tone to John's voice, and then he shrugged. "You're footing the bill, aren't you? Then sure, why not?"

If it was a test, it wasn't one that bothered John as he waved the barman over once more and ordered a second steak for Dresden. It wasn't like this meal would bankrupt him, after all. It wasn't even as though it would dent his budget for the day. And if it got Dresden working for him, even in some small capacity...

"So," John began once Dresden had received his second steak and made quite a dent in that one as well, "did you want to start off by telling me how it was that you knew my ward's name?" It was either begin the conversation or ask him when the last time was that he ate, and John was pretty sure that one of those two topics of conversation wouldn't go so well.

Dresden set his knife and fork down with a small sigh and finished chewing his food. He took a gulp from his ale and settled the bottle on the table before looking up at John. "Your... ward. Harry Potter. Right. He's... well, he's something of a celebrity in the magical world."

John couldn't keep himself from scowling at the somewhat vague statement. His ward was in a very fragile state of mind; he didn't want him to have to deal with any sort of fame while trying to recover from his Uncle's cruel treatment. "Would you care to elaborate on that?" he asked, and only realized after he'd spoken that he'd done so through gritted teeth.

"He saved the world," Dresden answered, and offered John an insufferable smirk. He was being vague on purpose, and it was maddening.

"Again, I might need a bit of elaboration here." John's goodwill dropped by quite a lot, and Dresden clearly had no clue just how thin a thread he was dangling on right now. If he didn't start elaborating on his answers, John might just have to rethink this whole tutoring idea. He couldn't trust somebody who would deliberately withhold information which could be crucial to his ward's wellbeing.

"Okay, so, a few years ago. Four of them, in fact, plus a few months or so, there was this wizard that was going around terrorizing the..." Dresden paused here and shook his head. "Actually, no. Let's start with the magical community itself. There are two: The one that I belong to, the one that's hidebound and traditional but at least open to new things, and then there's the the other one. You have to be born into that community, really, or pass some test I guess to enter it. They're an... hmm, I guess you could say that they're isolationists, and they don't act within the modern world all that much. They stick to themselves."

"So my Harry was born into this world?" John asked, trying to rush this along a bit. He had the feeling that his explanation could take all night, and honestly, he really just wanted to get back home and make sure that Harry was okay. They'd had a very rough day, after all. He could learn more about this society once he had Dresden working for him, and if he didn't manage to secure him, he would find someone else.

"Yes, yes he was. There was some rumor about a prophecy that applied to him, and this mad wizard named... Maldywart? I don't know the name. Anyway, he came after the little Potter baby. In a nutshell, Harry survived the confrontation when nobody else did, and now they call him the Boy Who Lived. And then he was taken away to live with relatives. Or something like that, I don't know." Dresden shrugged, then, and added rather sheepishly, "I've never really followed the movements of my own society, much less theirs."

"That's more than enough information to begin with, I suppose," John said with a small sigh. "Although do you know if the mad wizard survived the confrontation?"

Dresden swallowed the last bite of his second steak and shrugged. "Nobody knows, but then, nobody's seen him since. At least, that was the last I'd heard. Of course, last I'd heard he'd gone to stay with some mundane relatives, and since you didn't know about this, it couldn't have been you. So how did you come to have him?"

"Apparently he was placed with my dear cousin Vernon, and his wife Petunia. I have no idea who would consider those two to be fit guardians for a child, especially a magical one, but I would dearly love to have words with the idiot who did." If he ever did find out who was responsible for placing Harry, he was going to do more than have words. The culprit would be lucky to survive the meeting.

"Ahh, that might be difficult. It should have been his parents' will that placed him, and that would have been handled by their executor, which I think might have been a very prominent leader in their world. Albus... Dumbdoor? I don't know." Dresden shrugged, not seeming terribly bothered by the fact that he didn't know the man in question's name.

"I don't care if he was placed there by a god, they should have known better," John snarled. "They were keeping the child in a cupboard, Dresden. A cupboard! And he's still so thin, while both my cousin and his own son are so ridiculously overweight it's unhealthy! I know they were starving him, and I... I couldn't leave a child there to suffer." John shook his head at the memory of the way that Harry had devoured his first meal with John, much like Dresden had just inhaled his steak. Actually, the two weren't different at all in that sense.

He had to push that thought away as it inspired an unwelcome amount of sympathy for Dresden. He couldn't afford that right now, not when he was potentially about to enter into negotiations with the man.

Dresden was staring at him like he'd never seen him before. "That's... that's actually pretty decent of you," he said wonderingly. "I'd heard that you had a thing about involving kids in crime, but I didn't actually believe it until now."

"Children shouldn't ever suffer for an adult's mistake," John said flatly. "Now, since it's clear that I have no chance at handling this on my own, are you willing to come on as his tutor, or can you point me to someone else you might recommend?"

Dresden frowned and studied his now-clean plate, and John waited for his response. He thought he might even be disappointed if Dresden was unwilling to help him at this point, and wondered when he'd actually started to like the man. It probably had something to do with that niggling bit of sympathy he couldn't quite shake.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry studied Marcone over the table. The mobster's face was relatively blank, considering the level of fury and passion he'd shown when railing over his ward's placement. It must have been painful for him to admit to having little ability to handle his ward's magic and the world that would undoubtedly eventually come looking for him.

There was no way the wizarding community as a whole would ever let Harry Potter walk away after what he'd done.

So this was it. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and he only really had two options from here. Neither were ideal, but that was life, wasn't it? He never seemed to get the easy choices. The simple ones. The ones that involved choosing between a beautiful woman and a snapping alligator. Nope. He never had those choices. Or if he did, it generally involved the beautiful woman being an evil Fae and the alligator being a dinosaur or something ridiculous like that.

But he wasn't dealing with those sorts of options now, was he? He was here, with Marcone, and this cliff in front of him wasn't going away. So he could back away from the cliff. He could go back to sitting in his office waiting for Murphy to call him with a case, hoping that somebody else's day was bad enough that they needed him before he starved or was evicted. Hoping that when Murphy did call he was able to give her enough information that she wouldn't suspect him of committing the crime.

Or he could jump. He could agree to work with Marcone. That would put an end to his police work, because Murphy couldn't use someone who was in bed with the mob, figuratively speaking. It would look too bad. It would probably end his business, too, not that it had ever really picked up that much. But it would also mean food on the table and a regular income in his pocket, which was a luxury he'd never had.

He should go with the first option. It was the option that the better man would take. But morals didn't pay the bills, and the better man hadn't had a full stomach in weeks. Was there really something so wrong with tutoring Marcone's ward?

"I won't be your personal hit-wizard. For one thing, that's illegal," Harry finally said.

Marcone smiled, and it looked oddly like a shark. "I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to train my s- my ward."

"Then..." Harry took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and hoped that he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life. "Then yes. I'll tutor your ward."

"Excellent," Marcone said, sounding far too satisfied for Harry's taste. He looked like the lion who'd gotten the antelope. Harry wasn't a fucking antelope. "Did you want help moving in, then?"

Harry groaned, wanted to slap himself in the forehead. "I'm not moving in with you, Marcone," he hissed. He was already regretting his decision.

"So you wanted to rely on that death trap you call a car to bring you out to my home every morning at a ridiculously early hour?" Marcone asked politely. "Of course, I suppose if you're dead set against moving in I can always provide you with a driver, or a newer car. Whichever you would prefer."

Harry gave up and let his forehead bang gently against the solid table. "I'm paying rent," he said flatly, "and you're going to build me a lab exactly to my specifications."

"You won't pay rent, and I'd be happy to."

Yeah. He'd made a deal with the devil. But at least the devil seemed intent on treating him well, which was more than Harry could say with the last person he'd made a deal with.

At least Marcone couldn't turn him into a dog...

* * *

**A/N: I'm so sorry about the delay in updates! As I've mentioned in a few of my other stories, there was schoolwork followed by health troubles, but all is well now. This should resume updating once a week, at least until schoolwork becomes a problem again. I hope the chapter was worth the wait!**


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor The Dresden Files.**

Of Wands and Staves

Chapter Four

When John arrived back at his home he was ambushed almost immediately by a sobbing Harry. Considering that it was easily an hour past his bedtime, John was more than a little unamused by this fact. Nevertheless, he immediately knelt and scooped Harry up into his arms and murmured soothingly to him as he kicked the door shut behind him.

"I couldn't get him to sleep, boss," Nathan offered with an apologetic shrug. "I read to him, I gave him warm milk, I even offered to stay with him until you got home, but he wouldn't calm down no matter what I did." He hesitated, then added, "He kept asking me if you were going to send him away now."

John fought down a vicious curse and instead nodded at Nathan. "I'll handle it," he said quietly, and carried little Harry up to his room. He tried to set him down on the bed, but Harry wouldn't let go of him long enough for him to do it. Instead he settled himself in the chair by the bed with Harry in his lap. "What's all this, then?" he asked as gently as he could.

"Please don't send me away!" Harry sobbed, clutching at John's shirt. "I won't do it again, please, don't make me leave!"

"Nobody's going to make you leave," John said immediately. He wasn't sure where Harry had gotten the idea that he would be sent away, because it wasn't going to happen. Not now, not ever. He'd grown too attached to the child in the short time he'd had him, and he would never send his own child away. Never.

While he continued to murmur reassurances to the child, Harry slowly began to settle on his lap. Finally, John couldn't have said how long later, Harry was no longer crying and his hold had loosened. "You promise?" he finally asked, his tiny voice hoarse with tears.

"I swear," John said gently. He pushed Harry away slightly and wiped off his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. "You want to tell me where you got the idea that I would send you away?"

Harry's eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and he still looked devastated. "You… that man. He's gonna take me away, because you don't want a freak like me."

"Actually, Mr. Dresden is going to come and stay with us, and teach you more about being a wizard," John corrected. "I don't think you're a freak at all; I think you have a valuable gift, and Mr. Dresden is going to show you how to use it safely."

Harry stared up at him, his green eyes still a bit watery, and then he nodded. "Okay," he whispered, and leaned back in for a hug.

John tucked his head under his chin and said, "Do you think that next time you could talk to me before working yourself up like this? I'd like a chance to explain things to you before you work yourself into these hysterics."

Harry giggled and said, "I can try," before letting out a mighty yawn.

Considering how far past his bedtime it was, and how much he'd been crying, John was unsurprised. He stood up and settled Harry on the ground, despite the grip the child had on him. "Do you think we can get you ready for bed now?"

"I'm not sleepy," Harry protested around another yawn. "I wanna stay with you."

John chuckled. "What if I stay with you until you fall asleep?" he offered. "I have some work to do tonight, so I can't spend the night here, but I can do that."

"I guess," Harry said, and leaned against him.

John took him into the bathroom and settled him on the toilet seat. He washed Harry's face gently and the child's eyes fluttered closed about halfway through. By the time John finished cleaning him up, Harry was fast asleep. John settled him into bed and turned out the lights and left his door slightly cracked.

He then went to his office. He had a lot of work to do to get the house ready for Dresden, starting with figuring out what exactly a wizard needed in his lab. Perhaps he should have asked him that before leaving him for the night…

ooOOooOOoo

Two days after he'd sold his soul to the devil, Harry was glowering at his office phone. It was all the phone's fault, of course. Everything could be blamed on the phone. It still hadn't rung once, which at least meant that Harry had probably made the right decision. He couldn't help people if he starved to death, after all.

And really, his decision wasn't as bad as all that. He would still be able to help people if he chose, and what could be more rewarding than shaping a bright young mind? McCoy had certainly seemed to find it rewarding, even when Harry had done his best to drive the man up the wall. This was a good decision. This was the only decision he could have made.

But now came the hard part. He had to call Murphy. She needed to know. His office was all packed up; he was ready to vacate the place. It wouldn't be fair to her to just not tell her and let her find out some other way. She'd done so much for him, even if she'd never really trusted him. She deserved to know that he'd… that he'd sold his soul to the devil.

Okay, so that thought had been a bit more melodramatic than he'd intended. He rolled his eyes at himself, then picked up the phone and dialled. Putting it off wasn't going to do anybody any good.

She answered on the third ring. "Murphy," she said, sounding a bit out of breath.

"Hey, it's me," he said, and had to clear his throat because yes, he was a little bit nervous.

"What's up, Harry?" she asked, though there was the slightest edge of impatience to her voice.

"Did I interrupt something?" Harry asked, and hoped that he didn't sound as eager as he was. "I could always call back later," he added. Nope. That didn't sound desperate at all.

"It's… nothing major. Just a few minor incidents, nothing for you to worry about. What's up?" She sounded a bit calmer now, a bit less out of breath.

A bit less busy, which meant that Harry was out of excuses. "So, I just wanted to call you and let you know that I got a new job, and I'll be leaving the office behind. And my apartment, actually. Both. I'll be living on site."

Murphy took in a sharp breath of air which she let out in a soft whistle of appreciation. "Sounds like you landed a big job," she said. "What did you find? Will you still be able to consult with us?"

"You might not want me to," Harry said, because he was pretty sure she wouldn't. He hesitated, and then blurted out, "I'll be working as a tutor for Marcone's ward."

There was a moment of utter silence, followed by the ring of the dial tone in his ear. She'd hung up on him. Harry hung up the phone and banged his head gently on his desk. He'd known she wasn't going to like this; he'd known it. But he'd thought she would at least give him a chance to plead his case.

The phone rang and Harry grabbed it immediately, hoping it was Murphy calling back. Nope. "Mr. Dresden," Marcone said quietly, and Harry fought the urge to hang up. Hanging up on his employer was a terrible idea, especially after he maybe possibly just burned his bridges with the police.

"Mr. Marcone," he instead returned as evenly as he could.

"I'm sending a car out to you. I'd like you to come and see what we've started with the lab, and also for you to spend a bit more time with Harry so that he's well-adjusted to you when you come to stay with us permanently."

Harry considered his response as he looked around his office. Everything was packed away, ready and waiting to be moved or thrown out, depending. It was sort of depressing, actually. And Murphy was pretty upset with him, so he shouldn't call her back right away. He should give her some time to cool down, instead. That made sense. He certainly wasn't being a coward, he was just being logical, that was all.

"Sounds great," he said finally. "When should I be ready?"

"The car will arrive in a half an hour. You'll see the progress on the lab, we'll go over what you're looking for in your workspaces, and then you'll have lunch with us."

"Well, if you've got it all planned out already, who am I to argue?" he asked, a bit facetiously. "I'll be ready in a half hour."

"I'll see you soon, Dresden," Marcone said, and once again Harry was listening to the dial tone. At least this time it wasn't because somebody was mad at him.

ooOOooOOoo

The lab, what little of it was ready, looked like it was going to be amazing. Harry sort of couldn't wait to see the finished product, especially after sitting down with Marcone and going over everything that he would need in both the lab that was being built and the workspace where he would train Harry and practice some of his more dangerous spells. He really couldn't help but be a little bit excited.

Lunch, on the other hand, was… interesting.

Little Harry seemed determined to ignore him, staring fixedly at his plate the entire time. Now, Harry knew that the kid was probably a little freaked out by this whole magic thing, but he'd always thought of himself as being pretty good with kids. Apparently that wasn't the case, at least, not when the kid in question was Marcone's ward.

He and Marcone managed to keep up a civil conversation, and it was only once the meal was over that Harry managed to catch the little one's attention with a small display of magic. It wasn't his fault, honestly; Marcone should know better than to answer a cell phone around Harry.

The phone sparked and died a miserable, swift death, and Marcone glowered at Harry. "Can you tell me why my Harry doesn't do anything to my technology, but you're a walking death sentence for it?" he asked as he closed his cell phone like it hadn't just nearly caught fire.

Harry shrugged. "Different types of magic, I guess," he said cheerfully. At least the kid was looking at him, now, rather than staring at his empty plate. That was progress, right?

"Could you teach me to break Uncle John's phones?" the kid asked, then let out a tiny squeak and jerked his eyes back down to his plate. "Not that I'd want to do that because that would be mean and I'm not mean. I was just wondering."

Harry grinned. "Kid, I can teach you to break so many things," he said cheerfully. "We'll start with easy things like phones and go from there."

"Dresden." Marcone was glowering at him, now.

Harry offered him a sunny smile. "Marcone?"

"You will not spend all of your time teaching my child how to cause mayhem and mischief on your level," he said with a dark glower. "You will teach him useful things."

"Mischief and mayhem are very useful," Harry protested. "But really I just want to start with something he's interested in. And that's as good a spot as any, I suppose. I've never trained anyone before, and I can't remember how my own basic lessons started." And even if he could, he wasn't sure that he would trust any of DuMorne's techniques.

Marcone let out a small groan and muttered, "Somehow I should have expected this to be a terrible idea." But there was a slight smile on his face as he said it, and Harry had to look away.

Marcone was kind of cute when he smiled, and Harry just didn't need to be thinking about that. He had enough on his plate with a new apprentice and the move he still had to finish getting ready for. He didn't have time for an entirely inappropriate crush on his mobster boss. Period.

ooOOooOOoo

The rest of the week flew by and, before he knew it, he and his things were outside of Marcone's mansion just on the outskirts of town. He knew that his lab and work area were finished, but he hadn't seen them since he'd discussed what he needed with Marcone. He knew that little Harry was actually getting excited, because they'd spoken on the phone a few times since Harry'd had lunch with them. The kid was warming up to him, and Harry was almost starting to feel like he could do this.

He also knew that Murphy was pissed with him. She probably wouldn't ever speak to him again, actually, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. When he'd tried to call her back a day after she'd hung up on him, she'd informed him that she couldn't be seen associating with a member of the mafia. That was when he'd hung up on her. He didn't blame her, though, not really. She was right. She couldn't be seen associating with somebody who was associated with Marcone.

He'd known what it would look like, of course. He'd called it a week ago when he'd decided to take this position. He just hadn't expected it to hurt so much when she'd refused to even listen to him. But whatever. He was on his own again, for the most part, although Michael was certainly still talking to him. So on his own except for Michael. And a mob boss, and a talking skull, and a kid. Yeah, this was sounding like the worst party of adventurers ever. They'd never get anywhere in a proper RPG.

"Mr. Dresden!" the kid shrieked, and darted out of the massive house to greet him. "We're gonna learn about breaking things, right?" he asked eagerly.

"Just as soon as I've set up the lab," Harry promised. "C'mon, short stuff, you wanna help me out with that?"

"Can I?" he asked eagerly, and lifted his arms to be picked up, which Harry did after a moment of surprise. "I'll be really careful and I won't break anything until you tell me how to do it! Aunt Petunia used to make me clean up the fragile things in the house, and I only broke something once and that was an accident because Dudley knocked into me. And then I got locked in the cupboard again... but you wouldn't do that to me, and there's no Dudley to knock into me!"

Harry counted backwards from ten. That anybody could hurt a child, any child, was just... it was unconscionable. That the child in question was Harry Potter, who had apparently saved the world once upon a time, was unthinkable. When he felt like he was calm enough, he said, "No, there isn't any Dudley here, and even if you did break something, it isn't irreplaceable. Except for Bob, that is, but he's not easily broken."

"Who's Bob? Will I get to meet him?" Harry asked, green eyes bright and eager.

"Not until you're older, I think," Harry answered quickly. Empty night, the thought of exposing the adorable little one to Bob's… unique personality was just not a good one. Not that he thought that Bob would be inappropriate or anything... okay. Fine. He was pretty sure that Bob would be inappropriate.

"Why?" Harry asked.

They were so not doing this. "Why don't we go take a look at the lab?" Harry offered quickly in a somewhat desperate bid to distract Harry. Why no, he wasn't above using distraction to back away from a potentially disastrous subject. He was a wizard, after all, and distraction was one of his best tools.

"Okay!" Harry chirped, just like that.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and hoped that it would always be that easy to keep the little one well behaved. Somehow he doubted that would be the case.


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor The Dresden Files.**

Of Wands and Staves

Chapter Five-

Within his first two weeks living with Marcone, Harry was proud to say that he had destroyed almost half of Marcone's technology three times over. Which really meant that he'd destroyed more technology than Marcone had to begin with, but really, who was keeping count?

It had been a quick, easy way to get little Harry to like him. The little snot was, after all, a kid, and if there was one thing most kids had in common it was that they liked to see things be destroyed in ever more creative ways. And, okay, there was the smallest chance that Harry found the little one to be absolutely adorable when he was giggling over a pathetically sparking piece of technology.

And Marcone was maybe intriguing in an entirely different way when he undoubtedly found out about said piece of technology and snarled over it, like some demented dragon snarling over pilfered treasure.

Umm. No. Striking that thought from his mind, Harry focused on the television that had somehow, someway made its way down into his lab. He certainly didn't know how it made its way to them, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. It wasn't like he'd redirected the delivery guys or anything...

"So, close your eyes," Harry murmured in his calmest, most soothing voice.

Little Harry's eyes slipped closed and he took a deep breath.

"Do you see it? That glowing warmth inside you?" He closed his own eyes and focused on his own magic. It wasn't a bad exercise that he was going through with the little one, and it certainly wouldn't hurt him to work on his basics a little more often. Fine tune his own control, as the case may be. Not that he had to work on his control.

"I see it," the little one breathed. His excitement was contagious and Harry fought down a grin.

"What color is it?" he asked. His own was a frosty blue, influenced possibly by his dear Godmother. Some people believed the colors meant things, but Harry had never figured out what. And, since those same people were generally people that pissed him off, he'd never really bothered to ask, either.

Harry let out a frustrated noise and said, "It's different colors."

Harry's own eyes flew open. The kid was still sitting there with his eyes closed, face screwed up in concentration. That wasn't… different colors wasn't exactly normal. A person's magic tended to settle on one. Maybe because Harry was too young? Or maybe it had something to do with his people. The fact was that Harry didn't know that much about the wand-wavers of England, and their magic could work entirely differently.

But control was control, and Harry should still be able to learn other methods. "Take those colors, and try reaching out to the television. You might need a word to help it along, something you can use to force your magic out of you. There's nothing wrong with needing the words; I've always-"

Harry cut off as the television exploded.

"Or you might not need the words," Harry said weakly. "Not needing the words is good, too." He was really glad, suddenly, that he'd had a protective circle built into the floor of the lab, otherwise there was no telling what that explosion would have done.

"I blew up the television!" Harry shrieked, and jumped up. He danced in place as he stared at the contained carnage.

"You definitely did," Harry muttered. "Maybe tomorrow we can try something a little less violent? Maybe with words. Words are good."

That the little one had done that without any sort of word, gesture, anything... just how powerful was Harry Potter?

ooOOooOOoo

When John came home that night and found the smoking remains of the television on the front porch, he tried to get angry, he really did.

But then he went in the house and saw his son…. saw little Harry looking so very proud, and Dresden looking just as worried as he did proud, and he forced himself not to yell. If Harry was getting control of his power he held, it was all to the good. Even if they were going to bankrupt him with all of the technology they were destroying.

"Can't you blow up something a little older next time?" he hissed to Dresden over dinner.

"Older things are harder to destroy," Dresden shot back, sounding far too smug. "But yeah. We could try something older, considering what he did to the television."

John sighed. He really hoped they stopped destroying things, soon. It was going to look very strange, shortly, all of the televisions and cell phones and computers he'd been buying. The police must be going crazy trying to figure out what he was up to...

ooOOooOOoo

Dresden had been with them for a month now, and John was having trouble keeping his distance emotionally.

Especially now, during their weekly dinner meetings to go over Harry's progress. The meals with just the two of them always seemed so much more intimate, whether John intended them to or not. And he knew it wasn't just him, given the way that Harry would flush when their eyes met and then drop his gaze.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Harry began, staring determinedly at the table rather than meeting John's eyes.

"I've never noticed you holding back on asking questions before," John said teasingly.

"Did you really just let it slide, what his relatives did to Harry?" Harry's gaze darted up as he asked the question.

John's eyebrows rose. "Do you actually want to know the answer to that?" he asked, because up until now Harry had done everything in his power to avoid the more illegal activities that John typically engaged in.

"He's such a sweet kid," Harry muttered, staring determinedly once more down at the table top. "I can't imagine anybody hurting him, and I can't imagine you just letting it slide."

John smiled, a vicious and somewhat gleeful thing. "Oh, I didn't. His cousin is now living with Vernon's sister Marge. As for the Dursleys, well, I regret to inform you that they were the unfortunate victims of a home invasion gone horribly wrong, if you must know."

Harry snorted, and John was pleased to see that he didn't look even the slightest bit disgusted by the news. "Just how far does your reach extend, anyway?"

John shrugged. "Chicago, and a bit of the surrounding area. I'm working on expanding, of course, but really I just had to call in a favor with an old friend to handle that. She has no love lost for child abusers either, so it didn't even cost me much."

Harry busied himself shredding a dinner roll to tiny pieces as he continued to stare down at his plate. John felt a very strong urge to reach out and still Harry's hands, and masked it by asking briskly, "So, Harry's progress for the week. How is he doing?"

The rest of the conversation was focused on Harry's education, which was going quite well. Apparently the boy was something of a quick study, and Harry found him to be a bright and eager pupil. They'd finally stopped blowing things up in between last week's dinner meeting and this one, and John was incredibly grateful for that. His wallet was almost crying with relief. Apparently they were moving on to runes and potions, both of which could be destructive but were more often not. Harry was quite content to discuss the little one's education, and John was more than happy to both listen to the progress report and watch the man giving it.

And to wonder just what it might take for Harry to actually be interested in him in a romantic sense. Or, no, that wasn't quite right. To wonder what it would take for Harry to act on the interest that John could read in every shy look that the wizard sent him.

He wasn't sure, but he was determined to find out. But slowly. He had all the time in the world, after all, and it wouldn't do to rush this. Spooking Harry at this point in the game was a terrible idea. Perhaps it would be best to wait for Harry to come to him. He had no doubt that the wizard would, with time.

ooOOooOOoo

Six months into his time as Harry's tutor, Harry was out visiting with Michael and his brood. He'd firmly expected the Knight to turn on him as Murphy had, but Michael had done nothing of the sort. In fact, the only thing that had changed was that Harry had more regular dinners with the Carpenters, now that he wasn't in danger of bringing whatever nasty he was chasing down on them.

"You seemed quiet tonight," Michael began as he joined Harry on the porch. Dinner was long since over, the kids in bed, and Charity was in the kitchen finishing up the dishes. The food had been wonderful, the company had been great, and Harry was getting ready to head out.

"Just thinking," he said, and turned to his friend. "Have I done the right thing?" he asked. It had been bothering him lately, wondering if he'd really done a good thing by giving up his business to move in with Marcone. He'd been doing so much good, and now… now he wasn't sure what he was doing.

"What makes you think you haven't?" Michael asked.

"I hear things, still, even if I'm not in the game anymore. That reporter, Susan, who used to bug me for information? I hear she's dead. And I heard you almost got yourself killed a few weeks ago. I can't help with that anymore." Chicago was a dangerous place, and Harry felt terrible for withdrawing from its protection the way he had. It didn't bother him most of the time, but sometimes things just hit him and he wondered if he would have been able to change something by being there, as with Susan.

Michael let out a thoughtful hum. There was a moment of silence and then, "I think that you're doing a good thing, teaching this child. And I think that you're happy, and that you deserve a chance to be happy. Let the weight of the world rest on somebody else's shoulders for a change."

Was he happy? Harry considered that in silence for a moment before coming to the conclusion that, yes, he actually was happy. For the first time in his life, he felt contented. He wasn't trying desperately to do the right thing so that the Council didn't come down on him, he wasn't starving so that he could run a business that nobody took seriously. He was helping a kid learn to control his power.

Maybe that wasn't as important as saving the world, but it sure as hell felt good. And there wasn't anything wrong with that. Besides, wasn't saving the world what the White Council was for?

ooOOooOOoo

Time flew for Harry and before he knew it, he'd been working with John and tutoring little Harry for a year. The kid was amazing, and Harry thanked everything out there that he'd been the one John had chosen to train the child because it would be so easy for a less scrupulous person to misuse the boy. Harry's own guardian, Justin, would have had no end of ways to do that.

Things were looking up in Chicago, too. John had taken over quite a few of the less scrupulous underworld activities, and had somehow managed to all but banish the Red Court from Chicago. Harry wasn't sure how, and he wasn't sure that he cared. Such a change could only be for the better. John had also allied himself quite nicely with the White Court, which had brought another excellent thing into Harry's life: his brother, Thomas Raith.

Things were looking up for Harry Dresden, and Harry was pretty sure he had John to thank for all of it. The man was... he was something. It was frightening how much Harry liked the man, considering how much he'd hated the idea of him before he'd agreed to work for him. But the man had an allure to him, and Harry found himself wanting to spend more and more time with him, and had to force himself to leave John alone with Harry sometimes.

It wasn't until he was working in his lab with Bob on a potion that Harry was forced to realize what was really going on between himself and John, and that was only because of Bob's blunt nature.

"So, boss, when are you gonna go on a real date with John, anyway?" the skull asked.

Harry was so startled that he dropped a glass vial into the potion, ruining an hour of hard work. "What are you talking about?" he asked as he dealt with the noxious fumes he'd accidentally created. Fortunately they just smelled bad; they weren't actually dangerous.

Bob sighed. "John. You know, the guy you've sorta kinda been crushing on for the past six months at least? When are you gonna go out with him?"

"I wasn't... I mean, I haven't been..." Harry took a deep breath. "Oh, stars and stones, have I really? I've never… I mean, you know that I haven't… Hell's bells, you know I like girls!"

"Hey, hey, calm down! No panicking! The lab is a panic free zone, I don't know how to deal with you when you get all emotional and everything!" Bob said hastily. "You're not attracted to him, clearly, my mistake. You two just eyefuck each other whenever you're in the room, that's all. But you're totally not attracted to him."

Of course, now that Bob had put the thought into his head, Harry wondered if it was true. Was he really attracted to John? If so, should he say something? If he said something and John hated him for it, what would happen then? He was sort of attached to little Harry by now, and being fired for expressing an inappropriate interest in John wasn't high on his list of things to do before he died. Assuming that John even fired him and didn't just have him executed.

Oh, Empty Night. What was he going to do now that the thought wouldn't leave him alone?


	7. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Dresden Files. I'm just having fun.

Of Wands and Staves

Chapter Six-

Harry was eight years old, and he wasn't stupid. He didn't know what was going on, but all of a sudden Uncle Harry wasn't eating meals with them anymore. And Dad was getting upset about it. That just wasn't okay. Dad was a great person, and Uncle Harry was a great person, so why weren't they getting along?

Which wasn't to say that Harry didn't enjoy some of what was coming from this newfound tension. When he'd tried complaining to Uncle Harry about how he missed eating dinners with him, Harry had instead been invited out to his tutor's now-weekly meals with the Carpenters. They had a lot of kids, and all of them were nice.

Harry liked spending time with them. But that still wasn't fair to his Dad! Dad didn't deserve to be alone, which was what led him to this. It seemed a terribly drastic thing, going to this particular person for advice, but Harry couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to help him. And he needed help, because he had no clue about what had changed between his Dad and his Uncle.

"Hi, Bob," Harry chirped as he entered the potion's lab. He wasn't really supposed to be in the lab without Uncle Harry, but this was really important! Uncle Harry would understand. He had to. He also wasn't technically supposed to know about Bob, but it totally wasn't his fault that the skull had spoken to him before he'd realized that it was him and not Uncle Harry.

"Hey, scarface," the skull answered. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"But I needed to talk to somebody," Harry answered, and hopped up onto the stool at the counter where Bob's skull was settled.

"What've you got for me, squirt?" Bob asked.

"I think something's wrong with Da... with Uncle John and Uncle Ha... Mr. Dresden." Harry fidgeted on his stool and pulled over a bowl full of shredded dollar bills to fiddle with while he spoke to the skull. Anything to distract himself from his slips. Just because he called them that in his head didn't mean he was ready to call them that out loud.

"You know you probably could call them both by the names you want to call them," Bob pointed out.

Harry rolled his eyes. He knew that, because, "Doc told me that a year ago. I probably could but that's not why I needed to talk to you." He knew they would probably love to be called by those names, but he just… he wasn't ready.

"Well, what's up then?"

That was what Harry liked about Bob. Yes, he was a pervert stuck in a skull who had probably done something terrible in the past, but he was always willing to talk to Harry. And he always gave the best advice, especially when it came to getting into trouble. Not that Harry knew from practical experience or anything.

"Uncle John and... and Uncle Harry have been acting weird for a while. Like, a few months a while. I'm worried that Uncle Harry's gonna leave, or that Uncle John's gonna make him go," Harry confessed. "Things have been real tense when it's just them and me."

"Oh, kid, they aren't tense because Harry wants to leave, or because John wants to get rid of him!" Bob exclaimed. "They're just tense because both John and Harry want to... to spend more time together, but they're not sure how to fit it into their busy schedules, that's all!"

Harry scowled. "That's stupid!" he declared, then looked around guiltily. He really wasn't supposed to use that phrase, either. "I'm gonna fix it!"

Mission decided, he hopped down from his perch and ran from the lab, full of an eight year old's righteous fury and fear of being punished. He didn't even stop to wonder why Bob was cackling with laughter behind him.

ooOOooOOoo

Fixing the problem, now that he knew what it was, turned out to be a lot harder than Harry had thought. He tried tons of stuff, and none of it seemed to work.

First, he tried disappearing and eating his meals alone. That only made Uncle Harry and Da... Uncle John panic and increase his visits to the good doctor. So that was scrapped.

Next, he tried hinting at places he wanted to go with both of them, like the zoo, and then wandering off once they were there, but that made Hendricks really mad, to say nothing of his two guinea pigs. And Hendricks was really scary when he was mad, so that plan went the way of the dinosaurs.

Then he tried to send them off on a hunt for Mister, Uncle Harry's massive cat, but Mister didn't cooperate with that at all. They only had to go to the living room to find him, and Mister didn't much appreciate the scolding he got for not going further when Harry found out. So that went over like a lead balloon.

Finally, he came up with his best plan yet. If they wouldn't behave themselves and spend time together when Harry just gave them the option to do so, then he would just have to make them! And take away any other options, of course.

And he had the most perfectest idea ever, he just needed a little bit more help from Bob.

ooOOooOOoo

When Harry came to him crying, saying that he couldn't find Mr. Dresden anywhere and he'd looked everywhere, John went on full alert. Harry hadn't really been involved in anything lately, hadn't rocked any boats that John was aware of, but that didn't mean he wasn't still some kind of target. For one thing, he did work for John and John certainly had enemies. Although none had managed to actually attack his ward since the day when John had first realized the little one was magical, and Harry the elder was certainly more than capable of taking care of himself as he'd shown the one time he was attacked on his way back from a visit to the Carpenters.

John immediately left his ward safe in his office with Nathan and instructions not to leave it and went in search of his wizard. He first checked Harry's lab, which was generally a safe bet. Next he went to the room where the two had their classes, and finally he checked Harry's bedroom. The door was cracked open and the room was dark inside, so John hesitantly pushed it all the way open. Harry was there, thank god, curled up in the bed, asleep.

Aside from the fact that it was only three o'clock in the afternoon and he had the heavy curtains drawn to block the light, he looked perfectly fine. He looked like somebody that John could easily curl around and take a nap with, actually. But no. John was intruding. He knew that he had to go before he did something stupid and embarrassing.

He turned to leave, only to find a dark green, shimmering barrier between himself and the door. When he crossed the room and checked the window behind the curtains, he found the same barrier in place. There didn't appear to be a way out of the room that wasn't blocked, actually.

Was this some kind of trap? Had some wizard imprisoned both himself and Harry for some dark purpose? What if they were going to do something to his ward? And then he heard a childish, familiar giggle that made him see a little bit of red and woke poor Harry with the most adorable start ever.

"Bob told me that you two needed to spend more time together and that was why things were so tense, so I thought I would help out! These wards will dis.. disint... go away eventually! If they don't, I might need to get Bob to help me figure out what I did wrong. But I didn't do anything wrong, I know, so I'll see you both in a bit!"

"What?" John asked flatly, and turned to stare at Harry. "Did you teach my son to imprison us?" he asked.

Harry was yawning and rubbing at his eyes. "No, no I didn't. But these are actually pretty basic. I could overpower them, but I'd kind of like to see if he did do them properly." Harry yawned again and added, "And I heard what you just called him, by the way." He offered John a sleepy smile. "I think it's cute."

John groaned. He'd been so careful lately to try to not spook Harry, and here he was, stuck in a bedroom with the man. And apparently his ward had noticed that things were a little tense between the two of them. Could this really get any worse?

Never mind. That was a stupid question, and he absolutely took it back. Of course it could.

ooOOooOOoo

Waking up from his nap to finding out that his brat of an apprentice had imprisoned them was actually kind of funny. Waking up to John being really irritated about that same fact was somewhat less so. The groan that John let out made Harry wince in actual, physical pain.

Before he could stop to think about it, to censor himself, Harry found himself blurting out, "Is the thought of spending a few hours alone with me really all that bad?" And then he wanted to kick himself. Was he really going that route? That seemed like a terrible idea, and he sounded like some kind of jealous housewife.

John looked genuinely shocked, an expression that was swiftly followed by horror. "What? No, god, Harry, this isn't about..." John crossed the room at once and settled on the bed next to Harry without so much as a by your leave. Not that Harry would have stopped him, of course. "I've been..." John groaned again, and this time he covered his eyes with one hand.

"You've been what?" Harry asked, belligerent in his t-shirt and boxers and insecurity.

"You aren't..." John let out a small huff, and then took his hand from his face. "You've been a little... skittish lately, and I haven't wanted to push."

Harry froze. He hadn't realized that John had noticed. He supposed John would have to have been an idiot not to, though. He wasn't exactly Mr. Subtlety. "It's just that I-" Harry cut off. It's just that I'm pretty sure that I love you and don't know how to say it, he wanted to say, but that was a terrible idea. He still wasn't sure how that would go over with John.

"You know, saying it would have been a lot easier," John murmured, his gorgeous green eyes softening. And then Harry realized that he'd spoken aloud.

"I didn't... I mean, I-" Harry cut off when John surged forward abruptly and claimed his lips with his own. The kiss was everything Harry had ever imagined it to be, passionate and warm and perfect all at once.

When John pulled back, a smile on his lips, his forehead pressed against Harry's, he whispered, "I'm pretty sure the feeling's mutual, by the way."

And then they were kissing again, and it was hot and wet and wonderful, and by the time either of them had the presence of mind to check the barrier, it was down.

ooOOooOOoo

It wasn't fair.

Try to do a good thing for people, and this is what happened. Standing in a corner, all by himself, listening as his Dad and his Uncle laughed at something on the specially shielded television. He'd only been helping! And it had worked, too! All of the strange behavior had stopped, but now they were both mad at him.

Adults were weird, Harry concluded. Very weird. And he was still stuck in his corner! This just wasn't fair!

"Have you figured out why you're stuck there, yet?" Uncle Harry asked him. Harry would have been happier if the mean old wizard hadn't sounded like he was choking on laughter.

"Because you won't tell me how to override the ward?" Harry asked sulkily. He crossed his arms and offered Uncle Harry his best pout.

It did no good. "If you can put a ward like this up, you ought to be able to take it down. What would you have done if you hadn't put that ward up properly?" Uncle Harry had knelt down now, and was holding Harry's gaze with his own stony one.

"I would've asked Bob what I did wrong, and he would have taught me how to fix it," Harry shot back. He hadn't done anything wrong! He'd known he was doing it right; Bob had made him go over it a million times before he'd put it to the test!

Uncle Harry groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. "But what if Bob hadn't been able to help you? Or worse, what if Bob hadn't wanted to help? And when did you meet him, anyway? I gave him strict orders-"

"But Bob's great!" Harry protested, interrupting Uncle Harry. Which he shouldn't do, but he did anyway, because Bob was awesome. "He's the best! He always has great ideas! And it isn't his fault that he thought I was you the one day and he spoke to me, and he shouldn't be in trouble because once he talked it would be rude not to talk and he's not a rude spirit, he's great!"

"He's a rotten spirit whose skull is going to be hidden for the rest of your childhood is what he is," Uncle Harry muttered. "What if what had gone wrong had stayed wrong for a few days? Did you think of how uncomfortable that would be for John and I?"

"But nothing went wrong! The ward came down after a few hours, just like I said it would! Just like Bob taught me!" And then he fidgeted, stared down at the floor, and admitted, "So maybe I shouldn't have done it," sulkily.

"You definitely shouldn't have done it," Uncle Harry said severely, and then the ward collapsed around him. He scooped Harry up into his arms and whispered in his ear, "But between you and me? That was a clever bit of work. Thanks, brat."

Harry giggled, and then that giggle turned to outright laughter when he was plopped down in front of the television between Dad and Uncle Harry and tickling fingers dug into his sides. This was much better than being stuck in a corner!

But Harry would still totally do it again because things were already so much better than they'd been at the start of the week.


	8. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Dresden Files.

Of Wands and Staves

Chapter Seven-

Just before Harry turned ten, he began to work on his very own first staff and wand set. Up until now he'd been doing minor incantations that required neither, but Uncle Harry believed that both items would help him with his focus. Not that Harry was doing badly without them, but he was having a little bit of trouble. He was still a little young for it, but Uncle Harry seemed to think it was time.

"I think I messed up," Harry muttered as he dropped the knife he was using to carve the symbol into the staff. He'd spent the past two weeks learning all about runes and selecting the ones he wanted. And now, on his third day of carving, he'd messed it up. He'd have to restart.

Uncle Harry came over to peer at the staff. He clapped Harry on the shoulder and said, "Keep going," cheerfully. "The mistakes give it character."

"Won't they mess up the way that it works?" Harry asked. His nose was wrinkling. He didn't like the idea of continuing if it was already messed up. That seemed wrong somehow.

"Nah. It's all in the mind. Your staff will channel your energy because you want it to, not necessarily because of the runes carved on it. Although I won't lie, the runes will help."

"If I don't need the runes, then why am I carving them to begin with?" Harry asked. This was ridiculous. It was tedious and boring and he didn't want to do it, and to find out that it was maybe all for nothing because the staff would work with or without the carvings was just annoying.

"Because they make the staff yours, and items you have a personal connection with are better for channelling your magical energies. Items that are definitely yours, that you have an attachment to, are also harder to use against you." The female voice startled Harry and he turned to glower at his Dad's new business associate, Ms. Gard. She'd shown up for a few of his lessons since she'd been hired, and he hadn't realized she was there.

Harry turned back to his staff-in-progress and glowered at it. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?" he asked, even as he picked up the knife once more. Tedious and boring, and not at all fun.

"Nope! You'll be doing this once a day, every day, for an hour until your design is complete," Uncle Harry confirmed cheerfully.

Harry sighed and started carving once more. Soonest begun and all that nonsense. That didn't mean he had to like it, though.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry's tenth birthday was being held at his house, and the Carpenters were in attendance. Originally, he'd been supposed to go over with Dad and Uncle Harry, but there was some sort of security thing. It had looked like he wasn't even going to get to have a birthday party, and Harry had been okay with that. Really, he had been.

That didn't mean he wasn't really excited when he came downstairs for breakfast and found the Carpenters waiting for him with big grins on their faces. All six children were there, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter, but Harry was most excited to see Molly. She was three years older than him, thirteen to his ten, and she was pretty okay for a girl. She didn't mind that he could talk to snakes, at least, which always weirded out her younger siblings even if they never said. She was also really interested in his magical training, which was also more than could be said of her siblings. Harry loved to spend time with her.

It was because of this that Harry found himself seeking her out when he couldn't find her after lunch. The Carpenters would be heading home soon, and Harry wanted to spend at least a little bit of time with her before she went.

She'd been somewhat quiet and a bit moody all day, though she'd never snapped at Harry. He found that he was a little worried about her, actually, because it wasn't like her to just disappear in the middle of the day like she had.

Fortunately, she'd disappeared in Harry's house, which meant there really wasn't anywhere Molly could have hidden that Harry couldn't find her. It didn't take him long at all to track her down. She was on the second floor, in one of the unused offices, staring out the window. Her hand was cupped oddly in front of her, as though she were holding something.

"Molly?" Harry asked.

Molly jumped and whirled around, and the lick of flame in the palm of her hand vanished as though it had never been. "Harry!" she squeaked.

But Harry had seen. "Molly! You've got the Talent too!" he cheered, and bounced a bit in joy. She could join him in his lessons! She would be a wizard just like him!

But Molly wasn't smiling. In fact, her face transformed into a fearsome scowl. "You can't tell anyone," she insisted, her voice tense and angry and just a little bit scared.

"What? Why not?" Harry asked, even as he stepped further into the room. "Don't you want to take lessons with me? I'm sure Uncle Harry would love to have you!"

"You're assuming that I'd even be allowed to take lessons," Molly said bitterly. "Have you met my parents? Do you really think they'd let me get involved with this stuff?"

"I think it'd be awfully mean of them not to," Harry answered. "I mean, your dad does some pretty dangerous stuff. And he gets along with me and Uncle Harry just fine, so it isn't like he'll hate you for having the Talent, right?"

"Of course he won't! It's not him I'm worried about, is it?" Molly turned around and went back to staring out the window. "You can't tell them, Harry. Please. I don't think my mom could handle it."

Harry frowned. That didn't seem right to him, to hide this because Molly was scared. Having magic was a gift, but it was a dangerous one. Uncle Harry had told him all about the dangers of uncontrolled magic. But if Molly didn't want to say anything, then it really wasn't Harry's place to say.

"I won't say anything," he said finally, though he hated to do it. "But you have to promise you'll think about telling your parents, okay?"

When she turned back to him, her smile was shaky at best. "I'll think about it, squirt," she answered. "Now, you've got a few hours left in your birthday, don't you? Why don't we go back down and join the others?"

Harry forced himself to smile back at her. "Okay!" he chirped, and lunged forward. He grabbed her hand and dragged her from the room and hoped that he hadn't made a mistake by making her that promise. No, of course he hadn't. Molly would be just fine.

ooOOooOOoo

That evening, after everyone had gone home and both his Dad and his Uncle had retired to bed, Harry did something he wasn't supposed to. He needed to go outside, but he didn't want to bother anyone, so he snuck out of the house. He knew it was a bad idea, but he just… it felt like something was calling him and he really, really needed to go out and find it.

He found himself in the gardens, and the feeling was getting worse. He couldn't figure out what it was, what was causing it, until he heard the soft, pathetic whimpering sound from just under a hedge. He hesitated and considered going back in to get Dad, but that would mean admitting that he broke the rules and no, not on his birthday. He didn't want to stand in a corner! Instead, he hesitantly approached the hedge where the noise was coming from and crouched down in front of it.

There was a puppy, small and grey and fluffy, cowering beneath it. When it spotted Harry, it whimpered pathetically at him and stumbled towards him. It looked like it had been on its own for weeks, and was so very thin and filthy. Harry's heart melted at the sight.

He reached out, hesitantly, and patted the puppy on the head. "It's all right, I've found you," he whispered, and he felt a distinct feeling of relief. The need which had pulled him out here in the first place abated, and Harry scooped the little one into his arms. "You must be starving," he murmured, and carefully snuck the puppy back into the house.

The puppy whined and cried a bit once they were inside, and Harry shushed him absently. He couldn't be caught with a dog! He wasn't sure what Dad would do, and there was Mister to worry about, which meant that he probably wouldn't be allowed to keep him. Which meant that he had to keep him a secret.

He managed to smuggle the puppy into his room and settled the puppy on the bed, not caring at all about the dirt and muck now transferring to his blankets. It would wash. "Listen, I'm gonna go get you food, but you need to be quiet, okay?" he whispered. "If you get caught, I might have to get rid of you and I really don't want to."

The puppy cocked its head to one side, but made no noise. Harry could have almost sworn that the dog understood him, but that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

Getting the food was an adventure in and of itself, but not as dangerous as smuggling the dog into the house in the first place. Harry was allowed in the kitchens whenever he wanted to be, after all, and this late at night there was nobody awake. He simply had to go in, and find… nothing. They didn't have any dog food in the house. Well, of course they wouldn't! There wasn't supposed to be a dog in the house, was there?

Harry scowled at the kitchen, then he got an idea. He went over to the fridge and pulled out one of the steaks they were supposed to be having for dinner tomorrow night. Whoever cooked would just assume they'd accidentally bought the wrong number, that was all. And it was going to a good cause. Really, it was.

After he got the steak up to his room and the puppy had devoured it, Harry sat studying him. "You need a bath," he informed the dog, "And a name. Are you a boy puppy or a girl puppy, anyway?"

The dog provided no answer, merely continued licking at his paws.

"I guess I could give you a name that could go either way," Harry said uncertainly. "You're very cute. And grey. And fluffy." He frowned and looked around his room for inspiration. Nothing came to him, at least, not until he spotted one of Mister's toy mice, abandoned in the middle of the floor. "Mouse!"

The dog perked up and let out a small woof of acknowledgement.

"Your name is Mouse, then!" Harry said, and grinned. He had a dog named Mouse. This was the best birthday ever. Now he just had to keep his parents from finding the dog. His Dad and his Uncle, he meant. And if they did find him, well, he probably shouldn't look so much like a stray. Which meant, "Mouse, you need a bath!"

And that was really weird, because Mouse actually looked a little scared when Harry said that. Maybe he could… no. No, that was ridiculous. Dogs didn't understand English!

ooOOooOOoo

"Your son has been taking raw meat up to his room every night," Harry began as he leaned against the entrance to John's office, "And I'm a little disturbed when I try to think about what he's doing with it."

"I love how he's my son when he's doing something wrong," John answered, settling his pen down and offering Harry a smile.

That was all the invitation Harry needed to cross the room, bend down, and kiss John chastely on the lips. Of course, when John followed him up and seized his lips in a more passionate kiss, Harry didn't object. And he didn't object when he somehow wound up sitting on John's desk, John standing between his parted legs, their bodies grinding together a little bit desperately. Empty night, he hadn't felt like this when he was a teenager; how did John always manage to do this to him?

"He's always your son," Harry retorted, just a bit breathless, once they were both spent. "I just borrow him sometimes."

John's forehead was pressed against his own, his breathing coming a little quick and heavy in the aftermath. "We should go investigate his room," John said finally, and drew away.

"We might want to clean up first," Harry suggested, even as he lowered his legs from where they'd coiled around John's hips. "I don't really feel comfortable going into Harry's room right after that." Not that Harry would have any idea what they'd been... actually, no. Strike that. The little brat was a bloody genius. He would absolutely know what they'd been up to, and they'd have to endure his smirking, and no. No. That just wasn't happening.

He was too damn old to be smirked at by a ten year old.

John sighed. "I thought the real trouble wasn't supposed to start until they were teenagers," he muttered, and leaned forward to kiss Harry once more. This was softer, sweeter, and Harry couldn't resist leaning into it.

"Don't worry, we've still got that to look forward to, as well," Harry whispered, and finally pulled all the way away. "Seriously. We need to go look into this now. In fact, we should have looked into it awhile ago, but nobody thought to tell us there was meat disappearing from the kitchen. The list of things he could be doing with all that meat is very short, and there isn't much good on it. I don't want the White Council coming down on his head."

John scowled. "I don't like that they have so much power over you," he muttered, even as he made his way towards the bathroom just off his office. They could clean up there; they'd done so a number of times in the past.

Harry scowled as well. This was a familiar argument. "And as I said, for the five thousandth time, there isn't really anything we can do about the power they have over me. I just have to be careful not to break any of the Laws, that's all."

"I don't like that you're unable to use every weapon at your disposal to defend yourself," John muttered as they both stripped down and slid into the shower.

This was a very familiar argument, and now wasn't the time to be having it. That meant that Harry was going to have to be, ugh, responsible and cut it off before it could really get going. They had more important things to worry about right now. "And I keep telling you, I don't leave the mansion much without little Harry, which means that I don't leave without at least ten or fifteen of your men with us. That I can't kill with magic isn't really a huge problem. And I still won't be your hit wizard, no matter how hot you are."

John chuckled softly. "No, I know. And don't think I don't appreciate you relaxing your stance on supernatural consultation, by the way. You know that you're invaluable, right?"

Harry flushed and hopped out of the shower before John noticed. "Thanks," he said quickly, and toweled off. He slipped into a clean pair of underwear and pants, and waited for John to finish up. It amused him that quickies in John's office were frequent enough that they had to keep the nearby bathroom fully stocked with both of their clothing, but it sort of scandalized Harry as well. Seriously, he hadn't been a teenager in far too long for John to have that sort of effect on him.

That John seemed to be proud of said effect made it that much more annoying.

ooOOooOOoo

John knew that they were in trouble when his son gave them the guiltiest, most pleading look he'd ever seen from the child. Ever. And that included the time the boy had found a snake that had offered him an egg, and John had refused. They didn't need snakes. Period. While he didn't mind that his son could talk to them, that didn't mean that it didn't still freak him out just a little bit to hear it.

"No, seriously, what manner of demon have you summoned that you're hiding in your room?" Harry was asking, scowling down at the little demon with the huge and watery green eyes.

"He's not a demon!" Harry shouted, his watery green eyes going from watery to defiant in about five seconds, give or take.

John groaned. "And what is he, then?" he asked, and Harry tried to slam the door on him. The brat!

John stuck his foot in the door and shouldered it open, not willing to be patient any longer. This wasn't cute, it wasn't funny, and if Harry was in some kind of danger he was going to kill the source and then kill his kid. What had he gotten himself into?

John took one step into the room, and then he froze. There was a low, menacing snarl coming from just in front of Harry, and when he looked down, there was a giant grey ball of fluff growling at him.

"You found a dog?" Harry, the elder, asked, head falling to one side in confusion. "You... why didn't you say something?"

"Mouse, no, this is my Dad," Harry, the younger, said, and the dog stopped growling and went to settle on top of the bed. "I really like him! Can I keep him? I've only had him for a little bit, but I've been taking really good care of him!" And then Harry frowned, and said, "Well, as good as I can, anyway. I mean, we don't exactly have dog food so I've been sneaking meat to feed him, but it's been working just fine! Look at him, he's a great dog. Can't I keep him, please?"

"I should say no on principle alone," John muttered, raising a hand to rub at his suddenly aching temples. The dog on the bed growled viciously at him, and John took a startled step back. "Do you understand me?" he asked the dog hesitantly, but the dog did not respond.

Harry, meanwhile, softhearted idiot who John adored that he was, crossed the room and reached out hesitantly to touch the dog's fluffy grey fur. "Can we keep him?" Harry asked, and added his brown eyes to the younger Harry's.

Fuck.

John supposed they'd just obtained a dog, because he could barely say no to one of them, much less both.


End file.
